


A  Chill

by thinkaboutsailing



Category: Little Women (2019)
Genre: Colds, F/M, Rain, assauging my quarantine lonliness with writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkaboutsailing/pseuds/thinkaboutsailing
Summary: The afternoon was taking its course quickly, as all Saturday afternoons do, for after Jo awoke late in the morning and ate breakfast, and reviewed April’s budget with the professor she had missed in her bedroom the last five nights (he had been left shivery and begrudgingly incapacitated by a cold), it was nearly three, and there were still errands to run.
Relationships: Friedrich Bhaer/Josephine March
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	A  Chill

It was cloudy: the end of March, and Friedrich called up the stairs to her as she finished braiding her hair back - she had been thinking recently that she really ought to cut it again. The afternoon was taking its course quickly, as all Saturday afternoons do, for after Jo awoke late in the morning and ate breakfast, and reviewed April’s budget with the professor she had missed in her bed the last five nights (he had been left shivery and begrudgingly incapacitated by a cold), it was nearly three, and there were still errands to run. 

“Miss March,” came his voice from downstairs, and Jo’s thoughts of a blunt cut, not as short as the last time but at least an inch or two above her shoulders, were set aside for the moment. In a hurry, she grabbed a scarf, and slipped on her shoes, and - almost forgetting - tucked two dollars into her skirt pocket. That should be enough for bread, and ribbon, and paper - she was running short on that - and whatever else she would find herself inevitably needing when the time came. 

“Hello,” he said when she skipped the last step and they made their way to the grand entry hall and the great outdoors, in that same sweetly bemused, almost sing-song way that he had when they first met. 

“Hello,” she replied, smiling up at him. It was lovely to be outside, and to see him, too. Five days was a long time, and the students had missed him, practicing their French on Jo when she came to tell them he was ill and would not be teaching that day. _Où est-il? Où est notre cher professeur?_ She had laughed and told him that when she saw him getting tea and toast from the kitchen, sallow and clammy and coughing into his sleeve. He laughed as much as a sore throat would allow and told her to tell them, in French, that he would be well soon enough; she responded with a dubious look. _Ne doutez pas de vos capacités linguistiques, meine liebe_ , he said, throwing in some German for good measure. _Do you miss me, as well?_ he had asked, quietly, and Jo had never been one to blush, but then again, she had never been one to write sweet nothings for anyone but the lovers in her plays, and she did that now. She crossed the kitchen to pour her own cup of tea and to kiss him on the cheek, but he dodged her, almost dropping his toast. _The master of the school cannot be sick as well_ , he had said, and she had to concede to his point, but she threw him a kiss as she took her tea and left. 

“How are you feeling now?” she asked after a few steps. The math teacher had asked him that earlier when they had all reviewed the budget, but now Jo asked him, with all of the intimacy and knowing that Mr. Birch did not have. 

“Better,” he said after thinking for a moment. “Though still a little chilled.” 

“Then we must be quick,” she said, looping her arm through his as they walked towards the town. 

* * *

The ribbon was purchased, as was the bread, and Jo got her paper, and Friedrich bought some pencils for the students and some spices the cook had asked for, and at the last moment, Jo ran back for the pins she knew she would need to keep her hair out of her face when she cut it short. And, as they stepped back out into the street, carrying their packages, it began to rain. 

Having no umbrella on hand, they tucked the items into their pockets and the insides of their coats, walking briskly, and dreaming up warm foods to ask the cook for that night: beef stew, and tomato soup, and bread with butter and cinnamon and sugar, and though they knew they did not have the ingredients, chocolate cake. Orange tea with honey for Jo and coffee with cream for Friedrich would be a good enough substitute.

It occurred to absentminded Jo at some point that the weather was definitely _not_ helpful to her dear professor’s health, and a warm wave of tenderness washed over her at the sight of him, teeth chattering and curls dripping with rainwater as neither of them had hoods. She shifted the loaf of bread inside her coat to the right side, and took Friedrich’s hand, bringing them shoulder to shoulder as they hurried forward. They arrived at Plumfield a quarter after four, soaked through, and when they delivered the bread and spices to the cook, she chided them humorously. 

“You two must be freezing!” she exclaimed, taking the loaf that was somehow still dry and the slippery glass jar of spices, and moving to fill the kettle and place it on the stove. 

“Yes,” Jo said. “Yes.” She was grateful for her worrying, though she would never admit it. 

“Dry off and warm up, and I’ll have barley stew ready by half past five,” she said, shooing them out of the kitchen. 

“Thank you,” Friedrich said. 

“Yes, thank you,” Jo said, and they left. 

When they were back in the hallway, she took Friedrich’s cold hand, loving and mischievous as ever, and acutely aware of his absence for the last five nights, led him to her room. 

The maid had started a fire there while they were gone, and Jo, still wanting to warm her lover up, ran to it and rubbed her hands together, breathing on them before taking his face in hers and kissing him. He unbuttoned her wet blouse with freezing fingers, and she pulled his shirt over his shoulders with familiar ease, eager to have his skin at her fingertips. 

At some point, under the covers, they warmed up enough for even their formerly icy feet to brush against each other, and Jo kissed Friedrich’s cheek like she had not been allowed to earlier in the week. The clock in the hallway chimed a quarter after five, and he buried himself in the crook of her neck, reluctant to button himself back into his wet clothes to walk to his room. 

“You must be quick, professor,” she said, propping herself up with a false punctuality. “You will have a warm meal ready for you in a mere 15 minutes.” 

He looked up at her, trying to feign a lack of amusement and adoration. Jo did her best to maintain a serious expression. 

“Miss March,” he said. “I am not complaining of a chill now.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone is staying inside if possible; washing their hands; and supporting local hospitals, food banks, and restaurants!
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave a kudos and a comment! I am starved of validation and connection, so messages from strangers on the internet absolutely make my day. I'd also love to hear any cute prompts for these two, or Amy and Laurie!
> 
> Stay safe, loves!


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